


One Less Reason

by Mekina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Gen Fic, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:03:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mekina/pseuds/Mekina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had long hair, once upon a time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Less Reason

Dean had long hair, once upon a time. It touched his shoulders; Mommy used to love brushing it, telling him he had such pretty hair, it would be a crime to cut it.

Sammy liked Dean's hair when it was long, too. When he was a baby he used to pull it, sometimes even trying to put it in his mouth, but when he was older, he'd spend hours just running his fingers through it. It was soft and golden and if it made Sammy happy, and Mommy wanted it long, Dean didn't care.

Then Mommy was gone, one less reason to keep his hair long. Sam still liked it, though, so it was alright. Dean kind of liked it himself.

Daddy never said anything about it, at least not until one night when he stayed out extra late. Dean put Sammy to bed, after giving him a bath, then settled in to wait. He could never sleep until Daddy was home; not just because having him there made Dean feel safe. It was also, and mostly, because looking after Sam was his job. What if something happened to Sammy while he was asleep?

He had to stay awake to keep watch over his little brother, so that was what he was doing. Sam was only three, too little to defend himself, so Dean would protect him.

Daddy finally came home, staggering a bit, Dean hurrying to close the door and take his jacket, pausing a moment to press his nose to the worn soft leather. It usually smelled like all kinds of good things (Daddy's guns, and his aftershave), but now it just smelled like beer.

"You get Sammy to sleep?" he asked as he collapsed into a chair.

Dean nodded, hovering in case Daddy needed anything. A drink of water, something to eat. Whatever, Dean would get it for him.

"C'mere, Dean." He obligingly moved in front of Daddy. "Dean..." He reached out, clumsily patting at Dean's hair. "Christ, kiddo. With your hair like this...you look so much like her. Just like her."

Dean didn't have to ask who _her_ was, he knew instinctively. Mommy. He looked like Mommy, which meant he was reminding Daddy of her, which _meant_ he was making Daddy sad. He didn't want Daddy to be sad, especially not if it was because of _him_ , his fault.

"So much like my Mary." Daddy petted his hair, then hugged him suddenly. Dean rubbed his back a little, already making a plan.

~

The next day, he got up earlier than he usually did. He had to do this, and he had to do it quickly, before Sammy and Daddy woke up. Dean wanted to go to a barber's and have someone else do this for him, but they wouldn't ever let him get his hair cut if he didn't have a grownup with him.

Daddy had a pair of scissors in his duffel. Dean got them out and went into the bathroom. The mirror was high up, but he was just tall enough to see himself in it.

He stared at his reflection for a moment, at his hair, that Daddy said made him look like Mommy. His lip wobbled a bit, and he felt the tears try to come, the burny feeling he got. He wasn't going to cry. He was a big boy, had to be good, brave. Had to do this, for Daddy. For himself, too, he didn't want to look like Mommy. If he saw her every time he looked in a mirror, he'd be crying, all the time.

Dean raised the scissors, made the first cut. A big hunk of hair floated to the floor. He kept cutting, more and more strands of soft blond hair floating down to rest on the grimy tile. When he was done, it was all gone, all that long hair Mommy was so proud of. Sammy wouldn't have anything to play with anymore, Daddy wouldn't see Mommy every time he looked at Dean.

He looked different. His hair was as short as he could get it, and Dean was sure that, now, when his Daddy looked at Dean, he'd only see his son. A big boy, who could look after him and Sammy.

In the other room, Daddy had woken up. "Dean?" He was worried, maybe, 'cause Dean wasn't in bed next to Sammy.

Dean left the bathroom, hand trembling a little where it was wrapped around the scissors. Daddy turned to him, relieved, then alarmed. "Dean? What did you do?"

He sounded unhappy. Dean raised the scissors. "I didn't want to look like Mommy."

Daddy opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, like he didn't know what to say. Finally he shook his head and opened his arms. Dean walked into them, into the hug. He hoped that him having short hair would make things a little better. Daddy might not be so sad all the time.

He heard Sammy waking up, reaching for Dean automatically and making a quiet, confused noise when he didn't find him. He didn't want Sam to be upset, so he stepped away from Daddy, moving so that Sammy could see him.

"Right here, Sammy," he assured his baby brother.

Sam stared at him like he didn't recognize him. "Dean? Where's your hair?"

"I cut it."

"Why? Why'd you...why?" Sammy's eyes teared up. "You don't look like Dean! Put it back!"

"I can't, I cut it off."

"Don't like it! Put it back, you don't look right!" He was crying, shaking his head. "Make it long again!"

Dean looked at Daddy, who didn't seem any happier. He felt like crying himself. He hadn't made things better, he'd made them _worse._ Sammy was sad, and Daddy was frowning, he wasn't happy either. He'd only wanted to make things better, not mess up.

He went to Sam, put his arms around him. "I'm sorry, Sammy. Don't cry. I wanted to help, not make you cry."

"I don't like it, Dean," he sniffled into Dean's shoulder, little hands clutching his shirt. "Look like somebody else. Not my brother."

Dean held Sammy tightly, stroked his hair. "It's just hair. I'm still me."

"I know, but I don't _like_ it."

He chanced another glance at Daddy, who was watching them. He looked so sad, like he was the one who'd messed up, rather than Dean. He didn't want to see him looking like that, so he turned his head away, tightened his arms around Sammy. It was just hair. It would grow back, Sammy would calm down, Daddy would smile again, things would get better.

They had to.


End file.
